The Imperial Recruitment Center looked exactly like every government building in the galaxy—aggressively bland, designed to crush hope and individual spirit. Perfect for making soldiers.
I strode through the entrance in full princely regalia: black ceremonial coat with enough gold trim to fund a small war, polished boots that cost more than a fighter, and the kind of dramatic cape that billowed even without wind.
Every conversation stopped. Recruits, drill instructors, even maintenance staff turned to stare at the Crown Prince walking into their world of institutional misery.
"Lord Raven Vex'thara reporting for basic training," I announced to the processing desk.
The clerk, a nervous Terran. "M-my lord? There must be some mistake—"
"No mistake." I handed him my official enlistment papers. "I'm here to become a soldier. Starting from the bottom."
"But... but you're..." He gestured helplessly at my outfit. "You're you."
"How observant. Process me."
Twenty minutes later, I stood in the middle of a changing room, staring at a pile of standard-issue recruit gear. Gray jumpsuit, basic boots, regulation undergarments.
"This is happening," I muttered, stripping off the cape.
The jumpsuit was too short. Of course it was. I stood six-two in a uniform designed for the galactic average of five-eight. The sleeves ended somewhere around my wrists, and the pants showed entirely too much ankle.
"Fucking perfect."
"RECRUIT!" A voice boomed through the changing room. "GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!"
I emerged to find myself face-to-face with six-foot-four of engineered muscle, scarred face, and augmented arms that could crush steel. The nameplate read "SGT. KRUEGER."
In the game, he'd been a tutorial NPC. In person, he was supposed to be intimidating.
"You the prince?" he barked.
"I'm Recruit Vex'thara," I replied carefully.
"I don't give a fuck what you call yourself. To me, you're meat. Soft, pampered, probably-gonna-die-in-the-first-week meat." He circled me like a predator. "Your daddy can't save you here, Princess."
Around us, other recruits watched nervously. Some had phones out, probably livestreaming this to half the galaxy.
"Understood, Sergeant."
"Drop and give me fifty!"
I hit the ground and started counting. At twenty, my arms began protesting. At thirty, they were screaming. At forty, I was operating on pure spite.
"Pathetic!" Krueger kicked dirt in my face as I collapsed at forty-seven. "The great Lord Raven, crawling in mud like a worm. Maybe I should call the Emperor, tell him his son needs a bottle and nap."
The other recruits laughed nervously. I stood slowly, dirt falling from my too-short uniform.
"Sergeant Krueger." My voice dropped to that register that made palace servants disappear. "Real name Marcus Krueger, service number 7739-Delta. Wife died three years ago from Terran flu. Daughter serves on Mining Station 7. You send her half your pay every month."
His face went pale. "How—"
"I know everything about everyone under my command." I stepped closer, close enough that he could see the red gleam in my eyes. "Including the interesting incident on Kallos Prime. The one where three recruits died during 'training accidents.'"
"That was—"
"Covered up. I know." I smiled, and the temperature seemed to drop. "Here's what's going to happen, Sergeant. You'll do your job. Train me, push me, make me better. But if you ever mention my father again, if you try to humiliate me instead of teach me..."
I leaned in close enough to whisper.
"I'll have you assigned to Black Hole Station Omega. Know what that is? It's where we send people we want to forget exist. Time dilation means one year feels like a century. You'll serve your full twenty-year term watching the event horizon, aging one day while your daughter lives her entire life without you."
His augmented arms trembled.
"And the best part? It'll be perfectly legal. A routine transfer. No one will even question it."
I stepped back, brushing dirt off my uniform.
"Now then, Sergeant. I believe I owe you three more pushups. Sir."
As I threatened Krueger, something strange happened. Every screen in the facility flickered. Training displays showed brief flashes of Black Hole Station Omega. The lights dimmed to emergency red for a moment before returning to normal.
My anger was literally affecting the base systems.
"Holy shit," someone whispered. "He's synced with the military network."
I filed that information away. The connection was growing stronger.
"Back to training!" Krueger snapped, but his voice had lost its edge. "Everyone, hundred jumping jacks! Move!"
As the other recruits scattered, I caught sight of familiar faces in the crowd. Zek waved from across the field, grinning like this was the best entertainment he'd seen in years. Near him, I spotted Chen—young, idealistic, probably saw military service as noble calling. And Rodriguez, an ex-mercenary with dead eyes and careful movements.
Good. I'd need all types for what was coming.
The rest of the morning was a blur of physical conditioning that left me questioning whether being an evil space prince was worth this level of suffering. Obstacle courses, weapon drills, formation marching—all designed to break down individual identity and rebuild it as military unity.
By lunch, I was exhausted, sore, and covered in mud that had somehow gotten into places mud shouldn't reach.
"Enjoying yourself?" Zek asked, sliding into the seat across from me in the mess hall.
"Living the dream," I replied, poking something that might have been protein with my fork.
"Your little speech to Krueger was impressive. Scared the shit out of everyone."
"Good. Fear is useful."
"So is having friends." He gestured around the mess hall. "Half these recruits are here because they saw your racing video. The other half are terrified of you. Neither makes for good teammates."
"Then I'll have to find a middle ground."
"Or," said a female voice behind me, "you could let someone else handle the diplomatic aspects."
I turned to find the Princess standing beside our table, wearing what was technically a military uniform but had clearly been tailored by someone who understood the strategic value of the female form. The fabric hugged curves that had no business being that distracting in a military setting.
The entire mess hall had gone quiet.
"Your Highness," I stood. "What's wrong with you?"
"Oh, didn't I mention?" She smiled.
"I'm joining up too. Fast-track officer training. Apparently, my qualifications are... exceptional."
"Qualifications?" Zek asked.
"Military strategy, advanced tactics, three languages, and I can kill a man with a dinner fork." Her smile widened. "Plus, daddy thinks military experience would be good for me before I become empress."
The way she said 'empress' made it clear she considered it inevitable.
"How wonderful," I said through gritted teeth. "I'm sure you'll find it... educational."
"Oh, I'm counting on it." She leaned closer, ostensibly to examine my meal. "We'll be in the same trials, you know. Officer candidates and exceptional recruits train together."
"Exceptional?"
"That's what they're calling you. After this morning's display." She straightened, uniform shifting in ways that violated several regulations. "I do so love a man who knows how to make an impression."
Behind her, I caught sight of Meus entering the mess hall. She was in standard military liaison gear, professional and deadly. Her eyes found the Princess immediately, and her expression could have frozen plasma.
"Commander," the Princess acknowledged without turning. "How nice. My future husband's bodyguard."
"Your Highness." Meus's tone was perfectly professional. "I trust your first day is meeting expectations?"
"Exceeding them." The Princess finally turned, and I realized both women were sizing each other up like gunfighters before a duel. "Though I hear the real challenges begin with advanced trials."
"Indeed." Meus moved to stand beside me, close enough. "Protecting Lord Raven during training exercises should be... interesting."
"Oh, I doubt he'll need much protection." The Princess's eyes glittered. "After all, he's proven quite capable of handling himself."
The tension was thick. Every recruit in earshot was watching like this was the galaxy's most dangerous soap opera.
"Well," I said, standing before either woman drew weapons, "this has been delightful, but I believe we're supposed to report for afternoon drills."
"Of course." The Princess stepped back, giving me space but making sure to brush against me as she moved. "See you at trials, Lord Raven. Try to keep up."
She glided away, leaving half the mess hall staring after her.
"I don't like her," Meus said flatly.
"You don't have to."
"Good. Because I don't." She paused. "Your quarters. Tonight. We need to discuss your training schedule."
"My training schedule?"
"Among other things." She walked away before I could ask what 'other things' meant.
"Dude," Zek said, "your life is like a really expensive disaster."
"Tell me about it."
The afternoon brought combat training, which went better than expected. Gaming reflexes translated surprisingly well to weapons handling, and my tactical knowledge impressed even Krueger. By evening, I was exhausted but satisfied.
The barracks were a study in controlled chaos—twenty recruits trying to adapt to military life while maintaining some semblance of personality. I'd drawn the bottom bunk next to Chen, across from Zek, with Rodriguez maintaining suspicious distance.
"You really threaten Krueger with black hole duty?" Chen asked as we settled in for the night.
"Motivation is about finding the right pressure points," I replied, checking my gear for tomorrow.
"That's terrifying."
"That's effective." I looked around the barracks. "Anyone here who thinks they can't handle serving under someone like me should transfer out now. I don't want hesitation when lives are on the line."
Silence. Then Rodriguez spoke up.
"What makes you think you'll be giving orders?"
"Because," I said, settling into my bunk, "I'm going to earn captain rank in the trials. And when I do, I'm building a unit for a very specific purpose."
"Which is?"
"Hunting pirates in the Outer Rim."
That got everyone's attention. The Outer Rim was where careers went to die—lawless space full of desperate people and worse things.
"Why?" Chen asked.
"Because that's where the real fight is. Not parade ground maneuvers or ceremonial bullshit. Real combat against people who fight dirty and don't follow rules."
"Sounds like a suicide mission," Rodriguez observed.
"Sounds like fun," Zek countered.
As the conversations died down and recruits settled for sleep, I found myself staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow would bring more training, more tests, more political maneuvering.
But tonight, I was just another recruit in a barracks full of people trying to become something more than they were.
It was almost peaceful.
"Lights out!" Krueger's voice echoed through the building.
The barracks went dark, filled with the sounds of twenty people trying to sleep on regulation mattresses that felt like they'd been stuffed with rocks.
I was just drifting off when every screen in the barracks lit up with my father's face.
"Recruits. You have one hour to subdue and restrain Lord Raven. Success means automatic captain rank. Failure means... well. Let's hope you don't fail."
The screens went dark.
I heard weapons being drawn in the darkness.
"Zek?" I called out.
"Sorry, man. Captain rank is captain rank."
I smiled in the dark. Finally, a real challenge.
"Then come and take it."